Unconscious Feelings
by Sarra Collan
Summary: After the disastrous Quidditch match that left Harry in the Hospital Wing with Ron, Ginny and Hermione come up with the perfect way to tell the objects of their affections the truth, without consequences. A Missing Moment fic.


_Unconscious Feelings_

"I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to do!" Hermione complained. "He nearly died, I can hardly stay mad at him, but at the same time he's a complete idiot."

Ginny sat back and rubbed her temples. This was not exactly what she needed after that miserable Quidditch match. She would _murder_ Cormac McLaggen.

"Hermione—" she began.

"When he was lying unconscious in that bed, all I could think about was how I didn't want some caustic taunt to be the last thing I ever said to him. But how am I supposed to trust him? I thought we were finally on the right track, I thought, perhaps, _finally_, Ron had got it through that thick skull of his, but then, out of nowhere, he runs off and snogs Lavender!"

At this, Ginny sat up. She had been lying on her four-poster bed in the fifth-year girls' dorm, trying very hard to push all thoughts of Dean Thomas's smirk out of her head while playing the sympathetic ear for Hermione to rant to, but suddenly she had a sinking feeling in her gut that had nothing to do with her boyfriend.

"Hermione," Ginny tried again, "what are you saying?"

Hermione turned pink and started to fuss with her hair, something she did so rarely that Ginny couldn't help but stare. It was such a…_girlish_ gesture.

"Nothing happened," she said quickly. "There wasn't enough time."

That last part was said with a distinct note of bitterness.

"I did ask him to Slughorn's party, though," added Hermione with a glum look, as if she had just been informed of a less-than-perfect mark on her last Transfiguration assignment.

Ginny cheered. "About bloody time!" But then her face fell, and with a slight cringe, already certain of the answer, she asked, "When exactly was this?"

Hermione shrugged, still twisting a curl around her finger. Whatever the problem was, exactly, it must have been large and worrisome. "A few weeks before Christmas, or so, I wasn't exactly keeping track of the date. Why?"

The persistent flush to her cheeks told Ginny that she was perfectly aware of the date, that she'd probably memorised the time, and that she'd written it down in the diary she insisted she didn't keep.

"Oh, bugger," Ginny muttered under her breath. Hermione was looking so completely distraught that Ginny didn't have the heart to try and worm her way out of an explanation. After the trouble she'd caused, inadvertently, of course, and it was Ron's own fault…

"Look, Hermione, I swear, I had no idea. I didn't mean for it to happen, it was just that Ron was acting like the biggest arse, I only thought—I mean, well, he deserved it, is all I'm saying, but you didn't, you really didn't, and if I had known just how he would have reacted, or that you and he had begun to reach an understanding, well, I couldn't have, could I? No one tells me anything. And I swear I didn't know he'd take it so hard, I only thought, he was being such a brute, and I—"

Hermione eventually cut her off, just as she was running out of air. "Ginny, what exactly are you on about?"

Ginny stared down at her boots, wishing she were the one learning silent spell-casting so that she could turn herself invisible.

"Well, this must have happened shortly after you asked him. Harry and Ron sort of walked in on me and Dean, and Ron basically went barmy, started lecturing me like Mum, if you can believe that, and I, well, I lost my temper with him. You know us Weasleys, we've never been much good at keeping it in."

Hermione just kept staring at her. "Ginny, if you don't mind, come to the point already."

"I might have, accidentally, perhaps, told Ron that you'd snogged Viktor Krum," Ginny blurted out, watching the look of utter horror spread across Hermione's face.

"Oh," Hermione half-gasped, "oh, Ginny, you didn't."

"You should have heard him," Ginny said quickly, desperate to make amends, "accusing me of things! And I swear, I didn't mean to tell him, not like that. I only thought I'd take the Fred and George route, just to shut him up. Only apparently they can get away with taunting him while I can't. I suppose I was a bit crueller than necessary, only he made me so mad! Big brothers don't take it very well when their little sisters inform them that they are bad kissers. How was I supposed to know he'd immediately run off to the nearest pair of lips?"

"You told him he was a bad kisser after you told him I'd snogged Viktor?" said Hermione dazedly. She looked as though someone had performed a colour-changing charm on her face; it was now paper-white. "Oh dear, no wonder. I mean, clearly it doesn't justify his actions, but it certainly explains them. He was always so jealous of Viktor, and if he thought…Oh, Ginny, what am I going to do now?"

Ginny sighed, and threw herself back down on her bed, covering her face with a pillow.

"You think you've got problems?" she muttered.

"What?"

Sitting up again, letting the pillow slide off her face, Ginny placed her face in her hands. If she couldn't tell Hermione, who could she tell? "Dean and I rowed again. He was laughing at Harry."

Ginny could feel a familiar blush creeping up her neck and rushed to head it off. "I mean, he was laughing when McLaggen hit the Bludger at Harry. I didn't think it was particularly funny."

"Well, it wasn't," Hermione said, abandoning her own romance woes. "But, be honest, Ginny, that wasn't the problem."

Ginny suddenly became very interested in the curtains around her bed. "I don't know _what_ you're talking about."

"Ginny," Hermione said, obviously trying not to laugh, "remember who you're talking to. It's not a crime you know, if you still fancy Harry."

"But I'm with Dean," insisted Ginny. "No matter how much of a berk he's being. And I gave up on Harry ages ago, you know that."

"No," Hermione said, still with that very smug smile, "I know that I told you to relax around him, date other people, and act like yourself so that he could get to know you. And it worked, didn't it?"

"Yes," Ginny admitted wryly. "Harry now sees me as a terrific friend and teammate. Exactly what I was looking for."

"Oh, don't be as dense as your brother," retorted Hermione. "Harry fancies you, you're practically all he thinks about."

This time, Ginny fell off her bed, much to Hermione's amusement.

"I think I prefered this conversation when we were talking about your love life. What _are_ you going to do about Ron?"

Hermione gave her a look that clearly said that conversation wasn't over, but she only said, "Well, let's look at this logically, shall we?"

"Do you ever do anything else?"

Hermione ignored her. "He said my name in his sleep, right? I wasn't imagining things, was I?"

"Oh no," Ginny said, now deeply amused and distracted from her 'Dean versus Harry' problems. "I was there. I'm fairly sure the significance of it went straight past Harry, though. You just ought to be grateful that Lavender wasn't in the room. It would not have gone past her. She's madly jealous of you, you know, because she's well aware that Ron has feelings for you. She's not entirely stupid."

"Well, Ron's…_ardor_ for her seems to be cooling off a bit, don't you agree?" Hermione bit her lip, and Ginny knew there was only one correct response. "I mean, he's pretended to be asleep every time she enters the room, even if he was just talking to me a moment before."

At this, Ginny grinned, feeling almost back to her usually sunny self. "And how many times did Lavender catch you in the room alone with Ron?"

A self-satisfied smirk crossed Hermione's lips. "Twice. The third time Hagrid was with me."

"Do try not to crush her," said Ginny, "it's not her fault she seems to genuinely like my pig of a brother."

"Hey," Hermione complained, getting to her feet as if an entire line of Grangers had just been demeaned.

"It's not your fault either," Ginny said magnanimously. "It must be the hair."

"It's certainly one of the qualities that attracts Harry to you," Hermione teased, apparently eager for revenge.

Ginny's lips tightened again. "Hermione, for the sake of our friendship, do leave off being cruel to me. I already apologised for accidentally delaying things between you and Ron. I am not above hexing you."

Hermione resumed her seat and sighed deeply. "I don't understand why you insist on this state of denial. It's not like you. Harry's one of my best friends, why won't you trust my judgement?"

"Maybe because I spent far too long on that dream to fuel it with any sort of hope now," argued Ginny. "And I'm with Dean!"

"Are you trying to tell me that if Harry marched in here right this moment, swept you off your feet, and told you he's madly in love with you, that you wouldn't break it off with Dean?"

Ginny's long pause gave her away. "Well, what about you, if Ron marched in here and kissed you, would you still hold a grudge about Lavender?"

"That's entirely different," Hermione sniffed, "I'm not holding a 'grudge'. In fact, I'm upset because I'm _not_ angry when I clearly ought to be."

At that, Ginny laughed. "Hermione, you shot _canaries_ at my brother. I don't think a lack of anger was a problem."

Hermione moaned and snatched a pillow away from Ginny so she could bury her face in it. "I shot canaries at him. Ginny, _I shot canaries at him_. What am I supposed to do now? And how did you find out about that anyway?"

"First of all," Ginny said, deciding that this moping they were both doing was entirely too unhealthy, "you need to stop obsessing over your actions and his actions, because it won't do either of you any good. Second, I heard it from Dean who heard it from Seamus who heard it from Parvati who heard it straight from Lavender. She made you sound horrific, but I didn't believe her…much."

"So the whole school knows?" squeaked Hermione.

"Hey, you're not listening to me," Ginny said. Then she came to a decision. "Get up."

"What?"

"Get up, you and I are going to do something productive, instead of just sitting here, wallowing."

And without waiting for a reply, Ginny walked out of the room, confident that Hermione would follow suit. Sure enough, she caught up to Ginny's side a moment later.

"And what, precisely, did you have in mind?" Hermione asked.

"Anything, everything," said Ginny, feeling a bit wild all of the sudden. "Let's find a pub in Hogsmeade and get completely smashed."

"But it's not a Hogsmeade weekend," Hermione pointed out, "it's not even the weekend. No one will sell us alcohol. Are you feeling all right? You sound completely mad!"

"I am mad!" Ginny exclaimed, startling a small first year Hufflepuff on her way back from the library. "Furious, in fact! How dare Harry think that he can just all of the sudden fancy me! I held on for four years, he bloody saved my life! And n_ow_ he decides I'm fanciable? When I'm with another bloke? That's just not on!"

"Sometimes boys just don't realise what they've got until it's gone," said Hermione sagely. "I know that Ron didn't even _begin_ to come to his senses until Viktor asked me to the Yule Ball."

"You mean, you knew it then?" Ginny said, startled. "You knew why Ron was acting that way?"

"Of course," said Hermione, surprised. "I do happen to know what jealousy looks like."

At this point, they were walking by the lake. Neither girl seemed aware of how they'd got there, but it was tranquil and isolated, and so they strolled along aimlessly.

"Ron's fairly obvious when it comes to his feelings," Hermione mused. "I mean, once you told me what you said to Ron, everything after that made much more sense. I was driving myself mad trying to figure out what I had done to offend him, and the fact that I had to think about it so hard just made me furious with him. Harry is a great deal more subtle. In fact, if you weren't watching for it, you might miss it altogether."

"Miss what?" asked Ginny, reaching for her wand and fully prepared to hex Hermione into the middle of next week.

"The fact that he's absolutely head over heels for you," came the reply. "Oh, stop looking at me that way, and celebrate. He hasn't made a move or even let a hint of his feelings show to you for two reasons: one, you are still with Dean, and Harry is quite gentlemanly for someone raised in that horrid household, and two, he is afraid of what Ron will say."

Ginny almost toppled over into the lake. "How, in the name of Merlin, could you possibly know _that_?"

Hermione sighed, but it was obvious she was enjoying this far too much. "No one ever seems to think that I'm paying attention if I've got a book around. I notice a good deal more than they give me credit for, and several times I've caught Harry in a staring match between you and Ron as if fighting an internal battle. So unless Harry fancies Ron and just doesn't know how to tell _you_, in which case we've all got problems, I think it's safe to say he's afraid of Ron's temper where his little sister's love life is concerned."

All of the sudden, Ginny had a brilliant idea.

"Come on," she said, taking Hermione's hand. "I know exactly what we're going to do."

A minute later they were in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was not exactly pleased to see them.

"You were just here to see them a few hours ago," the nurse said suspiciously. "What could you possibly need to say to two unconscious sixth years?"

"Please, Madam Pomfrey?" Ginny said, putting on her best innocent face. "We know that they can't really hear us right now, but we'd just like to be there. We won't stay long, I promise."

The nurse still didn't look as though she believed Ginny's plea, but she gave in.

"Fine, but don't disturb them. They both need their rest. Mr. Weasley is in a potion-induced sleep, and Mr. Potter is still unconscious from his head injury."

This gave Ginny pause. "They'll be all right, won't they?"

The nurse's look softened as she took note of Hermione's pale face and Ginny's tight lips. "Yes, of course. Mr. Weasley is well on his way to full recovery, and I repaired Mr. Potter's cracked skull, it's nothing a little _bedrest_ won't cure."

"Understood," said Ginny, and she and Hermione entered the room where Harry and Ron were lying on beds looking very small and unusually fragile.

"Ginny," Hermione hissed as soon as Madam Pomfrey had gone into the next room, "what are we doing up here? We already knew they'd be fine!"

Ginny took a quick look around to make sure no one else was present, and then pointed her wand at the room Madam Pomfrey occupied. "_Muffliato_!"

Hermione looked scandalised. "Where did you learn that spell?"

"I picked it up from Harry," Ginny replied, giving Hermione a push towards Ron's bed. "Go on, now's your chance."

"To do _what_?"

Ginny grinned. "To say everything to Ron you always wanted to say, but were always afraid to. Go on, he can't hear you."

"Ginny, that's madness! I am not going to blurt out my feelings to an unconscious boy!"

"Why not? All right, I'll go first." Ginny cleared her throat and looked down at her brother. "You're a prat, Ron. I love you because you're my brother, and I even like you most of the time, but you have got to understand that I'm not a baby anymore. I'm a big girl, and I can handle myself, I would have thought I'd made that clear last year. And I realise you're acting on orders from Mum and Dad, and the rest of my over-protective brothers, but lighten up. It's not easy for a girl to grow up with six older brothers, but I think I've done a damn good job. Leave me to handle romance my own way, and I think you and I will reach a better understanding. Next to Bill, you always were my favourite brother, Ron. And Bill only wins because he's, well, he's Bill."

She turned to Hermione. "There. Your turn."

Hermione hesitated and bit her lip, but then shook her head. "No, I can't. What if he wakes up?"

"Then we'll stop talking."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to, but needed an extra push. Before Ginny could make a suggestion, though, Hermione came up with one of her own.

"Tell you what," said Hermione, a light brightening in her brown eyes, "I'll tell Ron exactly how I feel about him, if you tell Harry."

Ginny looked across the room at the still form of the great Harry Potter. He looked as if one large breath would blow him away. Slowly she started towards him, trying to make sense of the chaos of her feelings. She knew she would always love Harry. She also knew she cared for Dean, but he treated her like a stranger. She was not a stranger to Harry.

It wasn't right, she thought, that her first crush, her first mind-numbing, all-consuming crush, had to be on Harry Potter; how could any other man ever measure up? And now, here was Hermione dangling a carrot in front of her nose. Yes, if Harry did march up to her and sweep her off her feet, she'd go with him without a moment's hesitation. But could she allow herself to hope? What if Hermione was wrong?

Ginny snorted. That was like asking 'what if Snape played the banjo?'

"Deal," said Ginny eventually, still staring at Harry, "but you go first."

With a deep breath, Hermione looked down at Ron, and then launched into her diatribe.

"You frustrate me," she began, "incessantly, constantly, abnormally. And, of course, I'm mad about you. Yes, Ron Weasley, I fancy you; isn't it obvious by now? You're a great big idiot, but I couldn't imagine my life without you. Don't start thinking you're perfect—far from it—but then again, neither am I. I think our faults balance out. I'm not afraid of you."

Ron, his tongue hanging out of his mouth slightly, looked anything but terrifying.

"I don't know what it's going to take, or how long, but I'm not going anywhere. Kiss Lavender for all I care, at least now I know why. But you don't really care about her, do you? I hope not. That sounds horrible, but I can't help it. And until you come to a decision, I can't tell you this to your conscious face. I believe you want to be with me. I do. But I will not snog another girl's boyfriend. Make a choice, Ron, and make the right one."

Hermione looked exhausted by her speech, and, impulsively she took Ron's hand. Ron muttered a bit, then turned over on his side and Hermione let his hand drop. She turned to look at Ginny, her eyes suspiciously wet.

"Your turn," was all she said.

It took Ginny a long time to get started, but once she did, it was almost impossible to stop.

"I almost wish I could hate you," said Ginny, much to Hermione's surprise she was sure. "It would probably make my life easier. But I don't; how could I? You're everything I've ever dreamed of, and finding out that you were only human only made you better. You're not perfect, despite the opinions of Witch Weekly, but you are Harry. And you have been the object of my affections since I was ten and I saw you for the first time."

He was older, obviously, and hardened by six years of endless battles, but he was still partially the boy she'd fallen for, and the rest of him was the man she loved.

"I tried giving you up, I tried just being friends, but it didn't really work. I don't want to be your friend Harry. I'll take it if that's all I'll ever get, but I want more of you. I deserve more of you. And I think you deserve me, because I get you. It's that simple. I know you Harry, better than you think. And if it's true, if you do fancy me, then I'm here. I'll be waiting. But I won't hold my breath, and I won't ditch my boyfriend for a pipe dream. Give me a sign, Harry. Give me something to hope for."

She was not tempted to cry and she didn't reach for him. She only looked at him, taking one long look before turning back to Hermione.

"Okay, mission accomplished. Let's go down to dinner now."

Hermione nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. As they left, they encountered Madam Pomfrey who was undoubtedly just coming to tell them their time was up. Ginny quickly removed her spell.

"Goodness, what have you been doing in there all that time?"

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a small smile and a giggle.

"We were just confessing our undying love for those boys," Ginny replied, thrilled by the scandalised look on the nurse's face.

"I think perhaps we'll come back and do it again tomorrow," Hermione added with a bright smile. "I feel marvellous, don't you, Ginny?"

"First rate," agreed Ginny. "Never better in fact. It's wonderful what a meaningful conversation with two unconscious male teenagers will do for you."

They ran off to the Great Hall together, breathless with laughter. Poor Madam Pomfrey.

They just made it to the Gryffindor table, and both stopped dead in their tracks. Ginny could see Hermione steel herself for the sight of an outraged Lavender, but she just took a seat next Katie Bell's friend Leanne, and picked up her fork. Ginny smiled privately; nothing was going to keep Hermione from what she wanted now.

Dean was waiting for her as she took a seat across from him and next to Seamus. He was frowning a bit, but Ginny could see the worry in his eyes, and knew he thought she was still mad at him. Which she was, but she'd get past it.

Dean was no Harry, that much was for sure, but he deserved more attention than she'd been giving him lately, and a little laughter over a Quidditch injury was no reason to stay angry.

"Where's McLaggen?" she asked. Dean's frown smoothed out and he smiled tentatively at her.

"Peakes, Coote, and Demelza took care of him. Last I saw, they were trying to feed him to Hagrid's latest monster. I don't think he'll show his face for awhile."

"Good," Ginny said with relish.

"Rotten luck, Ginny," Parvati said to her from down the table. "It seems that the only way another team can win against Gryffindor is when Harry's put in the Hospital Wing."

"True," said Ginny, still smiling at Dean to show no hard feelings. "But you can't keep Harry down for long."

She looked away from Dean and caught Hermione's gaze. Maybe she would just take another trip to the Hospital Wing the following day. She had a few other things she'd like to get off her chest.


End file.
